Why do I write?

Why do I write?

By P.S. Gifford
A seemingly simple question, wouldn't you agree? But the answer, at least my answer, is considerably complex.

I write to express myself and to create literary form and fictional body to my innermost feelings and fantasies.

I write to temporary elude the boundaries of reality, to permit anything I can conjure within my imagination to become real- at least within my minds eye.

I write to make people laugh at the world; a world that at times, takes itself far too seriously.
I write to make people gasp in horror at what mankind is truly capable of and hopefully to remind them how ludicrously fragile life actually is.

I write to make people peer nervously over their shoulders as I captivate them with a deliciously macabre tale.

I write for writing is an addiction- considerably more potent, intoxicating, and gratifying than any traditional drug.

I write as it is my compulsion. A day without writing, if only it be a few disjointed sentences, would be a day that would break my own heart.

I write for it is therapy. Sharing my deepest pains, regrets and sorrows is sublimely cathartic.
I write to express my unremitting love and appreciation of those around me.
I write to facilitate the self rationalizing of this maddening world mankind has created.
I write so that if I surrender to my ghost tomorrow something of merit shall remain behind to remind others of my meager existence.

I write so as I precariously teeter on the fragile boundary between being insane and being sane- I spend more time where I am most comfortable.

And the most compelling answer to that question?
I write in a futile attempt to irrevocably silence the perpetually screaming demons that exist within my mind.

PSGifford